The Piano Man
by Austria1996
Summary: My first chapter story, and also first AU story. Austria as the piano man, Prussia as a really talented singer, they both as friends... Or maybe is it something more? Lots of music.
1. Prologue

Well, it was cold. I smirked. February, right? I was going back from another music studio. Again, nothing. Nobody needs a pianist, again. If I was more emotional, I could say "nobody needs me". But I was not. I was just feeling insanely cold.

Another day passed. "Another days" were turning into "another months", another months" into "another years". What was I waiting for? I have to disappoint you, nothing special. I was just looking for a job. I was a pianist. It was my first and only love. For me, the world could not exist. Only music counts, I used to say. I know it's stupid, but I... I wanted to make people happy. With music. My music. But nobody needs a pianist, right?

I was sitting in that bar. It was crowded, noisy and full of smoke. I hated it, but it was the only place where I could find a job. I was playing old rock or blues on an unstrung piano. Every evening.

The same songs every evening. The same faces every evening. I hated it.

But it was that better part of my life. Carrying heavy bag, full of newspapers, was not a pleasure at all. Especially in winter, when days were short, so I was walking back home in darkness. I wasn't living in a nice quarter, I must say – but it was the only one where I could rent an apartment - so streetlights usually were broken, or they didn't work, or nobody turned them on. And the cold. It was just insanely cold, both on the streets, where I spent long hours, and in my apartment. Small and cold apartment. And with no piano in it. Compared to this, that bar was just a wonderful place. Maybe crowded and with a lot of smoke, but warm and kind of friendly.

But I still hated it.

Author's Death Note:

Ok, I'm writing something like a music fiction, I mean, this story is inspired by songs. New songs will appear in other notes, but now my list (for Prologue and Chapter 1) is:

American Pie by Don McLean

Piano Man by Billy Joel

Still Loving You by The Scorpions

Somebody To Love by Jefferson Airplane

Read, listen, love, share, review, enjoy.

Yours faithfully,

M.


	2. Chapter 1

Well, it was cold. I smirked. February, right? I was going back from another music studio. Again, nothing. Nobody needs a pianist, again. If I was more emotional, I could say "nobody needs me". But I was not. I was just feeling insanely cold.

Another day passed. "Another days" were turning into "another months", another months" into "another years". What was I waiting for? I have to disappoint you, nothing special. I was just looking for a job. I was a pianist. It was my first and only love. For me, the world could not exist. Only music counts, I used to say. I know it's stupid, but I... I wanted to make people happy. With music. My music. But nobody needs a pianist, right?

I was sitting in that bar. It was crowded, noisy and full of smoke. I hated it, but it was the only place where I could find a job. I was playing old rock or blues on an unstrung piano. Every evening.

The same songs every evening. The same faces every evening. I hated it.

But it was that better part of my life. Carrying heavy bag, full of newspapers, was not a pleasure at all. Especially in winter, when days were short, so I was walking back home in darkness. I wasn't living in a nice quarter, I must say – but it was the only one where I could rent an apartment - so streetlights usually were broken, or they didn't work, or nobody turned them on. And the cold. It was just insanely cold, both on the streets, where I spent long hours, and in my apartment. Small and cold apartment. And with no piano in it. Compared to this, that bar was just a wonderful place. Maybe crowded and with a lot of smoke, but warm and kind of friendly.

But I still hated it.

Things happen. Even to me. And once, it happened. I was sitting there, playing something as usual, and I saw somebody new. Near my piano, there was a young man that I have never seen here before. I thought he may be in my age. I noticed he must be an albino, his hair was all white, his skin was very pale and his eyes were bloody red. And his smile was gorgeous. He noticed me and smiled. I smiled too. He ordered a beer and I started playing another song. "Still Loving You", Scorpions. And then I noticed that he started singing. He knew the song by heart... And so did I. He smiled to me again, the he was just singing, I was just playing. I've forgotten about the world for a while.

The whole world has disappeared. There was only me – and him – and the music.

The last sound flew through the air and disappeared. The silence. And then, a loud, really loud applause.

The albino smiled to me.

- Hey, nice song – he told me.

- Thank you – I answered – You have an amazing voice.

- Geez, thanks! - he looked really happy – Can I offer you a drink?

- I don't drink alcohol – I answered quietly. I've been invited for a drink since I started working there, and my answer was always the same. And the ones who were inviting me? They were shocked, sometimes angry, they persuaded me...

- No prob! Can I offer you a nice warm coffee? - his smile was even wider. I just couldn't not smile back.

So, we sit, we started drinking.

- I'm Gilbert – he said.

- I'm Roderich... I mean, Rod... Nice to meet...

- You too! I just love how you play! - he was laughing, drinking and talking to me in the same time – Man, you know all my favorite songs!

- I do?

- Yes! I just love classic rock! You play here every night?

His enthusiasm was actually quite cute.

- From eight till eleven.

- You're a pianist?

I sighed.

- I wish.

- Aw, Rod, come on, everything's gonna be alright.

I just couldn't be pessimistic with him around.

- And you? What do you do?

- Me? I... Fix up... Something... From time to time... - he blushed a little bit.

- So you don't have a job?

He stared at the floor.

- No. I tried to find something...

- ...But nobody needs a singer?

He left his head.

- How did you know?

I smiled.

- That's the same as me, although I usually say "nobody needs a pianist".

- Life... - he sighed and drunk some beer from his glass – If you're a pianist, nobody needs a pianist – he smirked – and if your worst enemy is an engineer, then everybody needs engineers – he laughed – So, you play the piano, right?

- Yes.

- But only in the evenings?

- Yes. Why are you asking?

He stared at me.

- You do not work in a strip club, do you?

I laughed.

- No! Do I look like I do?

- No!

- And should I?

- No! I mean... That would be interesting... - he winked, making me laugh again – And you don't work at a sexphone, or something?

- No, I do not. And you?

- Me what?

- What about you?

- Oh, I'm fine, thank you.

Playing that game was fun.

- No, I mean what about you, the strip clubs and the sexphone?

- Ah, yes, of course! I like them both!

We smiled.

– So, Rod, where do you live? Yeah, I know, I shouldn't ask, but I just want to know if you'd like to change your apartment, or whatever it is.

- It's a cold, dirty, awful place – I answered with a smile – And now you answer me: why wouldn't I like to exchange it?

- Aw, I dunno, maybe you like cold, dirty, awful places? - he winked – I'm looking for somebody who could rent an apartment with me.

I smiled.

- You should meet me better first. Maybe I'm a psychopath...?

And guess what he did? He laughed.

- You, a psycho? No way. You're too nice.

Was it just me, or did I felt a nice warm feeling inside me?

- Anyway, I need to find a flatmate. I just hate my apartment! It's so... So tiny! And my neighbors hate when I sing! So... - he stared at me – Would you give me a try?

- Well – I decided to play his game – And what if you're a psychopath? And you'll, for example, kill me...

His smile just widened.

- Raping you would be much more fun.

I don't know, why I thought it would be fun, too.

- So...?

I made a decision.

- The answer is "yes".

- Oh, you'll work on a sexline with me?

- No! - I laughed – I'll rent an apartment with you. So, we both pay 50% of everything, except food, ok?

- Deal!

The best decision in my life.


	3. Chapter 2

I played a few more songs and, because it was already 11 p.m., I decided to go home. I took my piano sheets and my suitcase and I started to say goodbye to everyone.

Everyone, except Gilbert.

He was waiting for me just behind the door.

- Oh, greetings, handsome pianist – he said with a smile - Can I walk you home?

- It would be a great pleasure to me – I answered.

We walked home... No, I was walking home and he was walking me home... It was so difficult to me that I started wondering, how soon could we start living together.

- I live there - I said.

- That's not the nicest place I've ever been to – he said – but also not the least nice. Maybe that's because of you – he winked.

- Or maybe it's because of you? - I answered with a smile and disappeared in the building.

When I locked the door, I suddenly sit on the floor and thought about one thing: was Gilbert flirting with me or not?

The next evening I took my piano sheets, locked the door, ran down the stairs, opened the door... And guess who was waiting for me...? Ok, you're smart enough to know. But I'll write it anyway.

Gilbert.

Just standing there, staring at me and smiling.

- What? - he said, instead of "hello" - I just thought you shouldn't walk here alone...

- I have been "walking here alone" for almost two years, so...

He took my hand. I gasped. He smiled. I turned red.

- Well, well, well... You definitely shouldn't walk alone in a place like that... - he slightly touched my fingers – You're an artist, you're so sensitive... Somebody may hurt you...

- Yes, like the owner of the bar, when I'll be late for work.

He giggled.

- Then let's go.

The bar was as crowded as usual. I sighed and went to the piano, Gilbert was going behind me. I sit, he sit as near me as possible. It cheered me up a bit.

Crowd, smoke, all those drunk people... To me, it was so disgusting. But then, I hit the piano keys and forgot about life for a while.

I played another songs, Gilbert sung something, people clapped and some of them even gave us higher tips. I was kind of shocked.

- Well, well, well – whispered Gilbert – Somebody's a star, huh?

I smiled.

- Two somebodies, Gilbert.

I think that made him happy.

- So – he asked during a short break – can I have your phone number?

- Sure! - I answered. I never give my phone number to anyone. Anyone. Well, it's not that kind of bar. I could have so strange phone calls, that I never do it. But he... He was Gilbert, right? My... Friend, right?

And so, we gave each other our phone numbers. I'm still not sure, why did I do that, but still think it was a good idea.

It suddenly started to be my day routine. I used to go to work, carry the newspapers for the whole day, eat something I optimistically called "dinner", take my piano sheets, meet Gilbert, go to work, stay for some time, drink a coffee, played more, walk home with Gilbert, take a bath, think about Gilbert, go sleep.

Everyday.

Nice.

Author's Death Note:

Sorry for my laziness...

Try to find quotes or motives from the songs into the text. Find something and you'll get a choco chip cookie ^^

No next chapters until I see 2 reviews, ok?

Yours faithfully,

M.


	4. Chapter 3

One day, we...

I mean, Gilbert and I.

One day, we were sitting in a cafe. He invited me for a coffee before going to the bar, so we were sitting there, drinking something and talking. The lights, not shining very bright, causing shadows on his face, his voice, old songs playing in the background.

We started to talk about us. I mean, not "us" as a couple, but our hobbies, our plans, dreams, future.

- Hey, Rod?

- Yes?

- What do you want to do in the future?

- Future...?

I didn't believe there could be something like "future".

- Future... You know, Gilbert, I... I suddenly caught myself not thinking about the future. Like it was my destiny, to work there, to hate my job, to never eat normal meals.

- Don't tell me you don't eat properly...

- I don't tell you – well, he just needed to look at me to know that – But, you know, once, I had a goal, a big dream... The biggest dream of my life. I wanted to share my music. I wanted to make people happy. But I... I couldn't do it. I... I need something that I don't have, some charm, or... Charisma? I... I don't know, what it is, need it and I don't have it. And so... My dream is still just a dream.

He smiled warmly.

- You know, I used to be a dreamer. Maybe not as much as you, but... I have a dream. I wanna make people happy. I wanna play the music I love, sing the songs I love, with somebody I love. But I still need something... Maybe a plan? Or maybe rather somebody who'll help me, support me, whatever... Rod – he looked at me – I want to sing. I want to share music. That's my dream. Well, the question is: will you help me?

- The question is not "will you help me", the question is "when will we make our first rehearsal".

And that's how it all started.

- Who. The. Hell.

My ringing mobile phone woke me up.

- Hey, Rod! I've found an apartment for us!

Oh, yes, of course. Who else could call me at six o'clock in the morning?

- Great.. - I yawned – Then...

- We're moooviiing!

I smiled. What else could I do?

A few more months passed. They were passing so slowly... I've sold my apartment, Gilbert have found a job, I started giving piano lessons, he started moving our things to the new apartment...

And then – it was late afternoon, September the 19th, warm, sunny day, we were sitting at the bar, waiting for the evening to come – I told him I can't stand it anymore. I need to move away.

The next day, we came to our new place.

OK. Yeah. The new place. Place. Not "the new Versailles" nor "the new Sanssouci", right. May be full of rats. May be cold. May be dirty. And you're gonna live with Gilbert, who may be a psycho. Or a rapist. Or a disco music fan.

Stop being so excited, Rod.

Anyway, we went to see the new flat. I have to say that it was much, much better from my previous place. Three rooms (two bedrooms and a living room, I'd say) with kitchen and bathroom. Maybe a little bit old and not so warm, oh, and really dusty, yeah, really, really dusty, do I have to clean it?, no you don't Gilbert, but nice.

And a piano. Old, wooden, painfully normal, moldy, dusty, not in tune...

I fell in love with it.

- Gilbert...?

- Yeah...?

- Gilbert, a piano...

- Oh, really? What made you think that, Sherlock?

- No, Gilbert, a piano. A PIANO.

He seemed to be confused.

- I see. And...?

- That means I can play, obviously!

He giggled.

- Wow. You play every single evening!

I sighed.

- Do you think those people would like to listen to Mozart's sonatinas?

He stared at me, then he stared at the piano, then he thought and stared at me again.

- Ok, piano man, you won. Which bedroom do you want?

Gilbert says it was the piano that made us move there.

Finally, I could practice playing my favorite music, and Gilbert could finally sing. The first thing that appeared in the living room (apart from the piano) was a bunch of piano sheets of songs he likes to sing.

- Gilbert?

- Yeah?

- Are these the songs you want me to play?

- Yeah, and so...?

- This. Is. A. Freakin'. Lot. Of. Paper.

- Aw, you're eco pianist...

- No, I mean, yes, but... I have to learn how to play all of them, right?

Gilbert used his .

- You mean... You don't want to play them all...?

- No. I mean it's all so freakin' awesome – I giggled.

Gott, I'm overusing the word "freakin'". I bet it's because of Gilbert.

I've never used that word before.

...It's a freakin' awesome word!


	5. Chapter 4

- Three... Two... One... Go!

- What? Again?!

I sighed.

- Yes, again.

- Rod, I can't sing anymore! My throat hurts! My tongue hurts! My vocal cords hurt! My teeth hurt! My...

- Gilbert. My fingers hurt, my elbows hurt, my arms hurt, my vertebrae hurts, my...

- OK, OK, I don't even ask how do you play the piano without dying...

Yep, another wonderful day, another hour we spent singing and/or playing the piano. And drinking coffee. And telling each other which part of your body hurts now. Great fun, you should try it.

- OK, once again.

I hit the piano keys.

- But only once.

I sighed.

- Yes, yes…

- And you'll buy me a beer at the bar.

- Yeah…

- And a small house by the seaside, with private boat and some mermaids.

I stared at him in a 'gonna kill ya, Gilbert' way.

- Forget.

- Aww… - Gilbert made his trademark sad face – Maybe a sandwich then…?

- Later.

I hit the piano keys, again. Gilbert finally fell silent. OK, maybe he didn't. He started singing. But stopped talking, That's enough.

Gilbert's deep, mesmerizing voice was hypnotizing me.

I closed my eyes, almost hearing enthusiastic crowd, shouting our names.

- Hey!

I blinked a few times, coming back to the reality.

- Hey, Rod, wakeups!

- Gilbert… Couldn't you wait just for a few seconds? I was daydreaming! And it was really awesome.

The albino giggled.

- So, what about?

- Well, I… I imagined we're on a concert. I mean, on a real concert. And we were really famous. And… You know… Screaming crowd… Squealing fangirls… Guitar solo… No, piano solo… And you were shouting to them all 'You're amazing! We love you!'.

I stopped.

There was something in the albino's face that told me to ask Gilbert:

- Now why the hell are you staring at me like I'm a chocolate pudding?

He just stared at me with a wide, wide grin. Like he was smiling all around his head.

- Well, my piano man… It's time to make your dreams come true.

And that's where the best part begins.

- So, what particularly do you do?

The Swiss stared at us, irritated a little.

We were sitting in Z-Records studio, trying to make Vash Zwingli, the Swiss, the owner of the company, the manager and a very rich man, propose us a contract.

So far, he asked us if we want a coffee, he even gave us cookies.

Two cookies. Two small cookies.

Oh, well, never mind. I can make cookies on my own.

Anyway, the studio was nice. Very… Extravagant. Modern. Minimalistic. And probably horribly expensive. You know, one of those black and white, geometric places where you can feel the power of owner's money. Well, it was one of those places. And, after spending quite a lot of time living in a quartier like ours and working in a place like 'ours' piano bar, I was feeling quite shocked, seeing a place like this.

So, basically, I was staring, Gilbert was talking.

- I sing. He plays the piano. And makes pancakes.

- So what? There are many people who sing and play the piano – Mr. Zwingli stared at me – At the same time.

I bet I blushed.

- Yeah, but Rod is definitely more awesome.

Yeah, thanks, Gilbert. It's still not helpful.

- OK, boys. I'll give you a chance. Show me what you can do and I'll decide.

Insert here a double 'hooray!', 'Californication' and 'Knockin' On Heaven's Door' with extra piano solo in the end.

And guess what?

Cliffhanger.

Really.

Mr. Zwingli nodded a few times and told us to come back in three days.

Three longest, toughest days of my life. Or maybe rather three days of Gilbert hugging me, making me coffee and telling me everything's gonna be fine.

Yeah. Sure.


	6. Chapter 5

- Denied.

- What?!

- Don't make me repeat.

I was staring at Gilbert with horror in my eyes.

- No way. No goddamn freakin' way! Come on! Tell me it's a lie! Or a prank! Or anything! Tell me it's not true!

Gilbert shook his head.

- Sorry, Rods. Mr. Z. said 'no'. I seduced his secretary so she unofficially told me that he prefers to spend that money on promoting a teenage chick with opera voice, something like that, you know.

- Ah – I said in my most sarcastic voice – one of these…?

- Yup. At least it seems so.

I sighed.

- Great. Yeah, really, wonderful. No shouting crowds, no squealing fangirls, no fancy stage make-up… Nice, peaceful life. Nothing better could happen to us.

Gilbert hugged me. I'd be surprised, but now I just turned around so I could look into his eyes and hugged him back. He smiled that sad and a bit sour smile he always smiled in a moments we couldn't do anything but let it be. He wiped my tears away.

- Feels like all the music inside you suddenly died away, huh?

I stared at him, suddenly understanding.

- The day the music died.

He smiled at me again, but this time his smile was happier. More… Pugnacious.

- You know, I know a nice little song, and I think you may like it…

He cleared his throat and started singing.

- "A long, long, time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile…"

- "And I knew if I had my chance…" – I continued, forgetting that I'm not really good at singing – "…That I could make those people dance, and maybe they'll be happy for a while…"

And that was it. It's not all about being famous. It's not even about your fans buying your records.

It's all about making people happy with a piano, a microphone and two uncommonly handsome men.

And I was going to achieve it.

_Author's Death Note:_

_That's the song they're singing: watch?v=uAsV5-Hv-7U_

_I hope you guessed it? :)_


	7. Chapter 6, END

- Good. What is our plan?

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

- To make people happy.

- What weapon do we use?

- Music and awesomeness.

- More enthusiasm!

- Music! And awesomeness!

- Good! What will we do to achieve it?

- Everything!

Damn, Gilbert was playing General Beilschmidt again.

- Very well – he pointed the door – Onwards, my brave pianist! To the bar!

And so we went to our daily concert, hoping and praying and fighting the stage fright (now that was new).

- Gilbert...? – I asked shyly.

- Yes?

- And what if... What if that wouldn't work?

- Well – he smirked – We could always work at a strip club.

I don't understand how some people can not like him.

And finally, it came. 8 p.m., the piano time.

I sat on the piano bench. Gilbert took the microphone and freed his inner showman.

- Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Tonight, you'll face the pure awesomeness. Tonight, you'll witness a true music miracle. Tonight… You'll hear it!

I slammed the piano keys. Gilbert started singing. I only remember it started with "Smells Like Teen Spirit". And then everything disappeared. I only saw the music sheets in front of my eyes. I only heart my heart pounding. And I could only smile, because there was nothing more I could do.

Next song. And next. And next. I was playing like there was nothing other but music.

And finally I heard people clapping.

I was saved. Gilbert won't kill me. The bar owner won't kill me, hopefully. The concert was a success.

And there Gilbert went closer to the piano with a weird smile and I knew it's not over.

- Of course you can! Rod, you're the piano man!

He looked at me and he smiled.

- It's nine o'clock on the Saturday, the regular crowd shuffles in... - he looked at me – There's an old man sitting next to me, making love to his tonic and gin...

He looked at me. I stayed silent.

- Naaw, Rod, don't tell me you don't know the song!

I knew. I knew it very well, it's one of our favorite songs, "The Piano Man". But I stayed silent.

- Well, I know you know it... But maybe you don't remember, so I'll sing – he cleared his throat – He says: "Son, can you play me a memory? I'm not really sure how it goes, but it's sad, and it's sweet, and I knew it complete, when I wore a younger man's clothes"...

I didn't know if I should cry or laugh or run away or ignore him, or sing or…

- Sing us the song, you're the piano man! Sing us a song tonight… - I've heard my voice joining Gilbert.

- …Well we're all in the mood for a melody, and you've got us feeling alright – finished the albino with a smile – Come on, people! Sing with Roddy! You're in the mood for a melody, ain't ya?

And that was the craziest moment of my whole boring life. I was singing in front of a group of people. A big group. Later Gilbert told me there were about 200 people in that bar. And they were singing with me.

And for a while, I knew I've found that happiness I was looking for.

After a few more songs Gilbert thanked the people and promised we'll be here again in a few days. And when we went out of the bar, he simply hugged me.

- Thank you, Rods. You're awesome.

- Empathy? Appreciating my work? Man, that's new… - I winked at him.

- Roddy… - Gilbert actually blushed – I hope it's not the end, is it? Because there is one more thing I'd like to do…

- What exactly? Please, don't tell me you'd like to try working in a striptease bar.

- N-no… - the blush on his cheeks become even darker – Roderich… Rods… "You make me sing, you're every line, you're every word, you're everything." "Like the angel you are, you laugh creating the lightness in my chest." "Trying not to love you only goes so far. Trying not to love you is tearing me apart." "Cause trying not to love you only makes me love you more." I'm so sorry, Rods, I'm so sorry! I can't help it!

I looked deeply into his eyes.

- Gilbert… "Is there anything that you want, if there's anything I could do, just call on me and I'll send it along with love from me to you."

He smiled happily.

- Really?

I smiled back.

- "You'll never find as long as you live someone who loves you tender like I do."

- So I guess I'll just sing the Beatles. "Close your eyes and I'll kiss you."

And so he did.

We went home, singing songs, laughing and dancing on the street. Because why not?

We performed every week, and every concert gathered more people than the previous one.

After some time we even became a little famous. And then a little more.

Last weekend, we got a letter from Music-801, a Hungarian record company.

Gilbert says he's so happy – but not because of the letter, but because of me.

I have a feeling that everything's going to be alright from now on.

This is not where our story ends.

This is where it begins.


End file.
